This blog was created for the Private Universe Project Mark II. This will be a realm for running adventures and naval battles with the Classic Traveller rules.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Jerusalem

The following is part of an incomplete manuscript for a novel in progress:

The jolt of the landing gear woke me up.

I
was the sole civilian aboard an Air Force C-17 Globemaster III
transport with a load of Marine reservists and several pallets of ground
crew gear for a Marine Corps Harrier-II squadron.

And if the jolt of landing at Gibraltar had not awakened me, the half-company strength chorus of “HOORAH” would have.

Regular or Reservist, a Marine is a Marine.

The Air Force pilot, of course, had to make her customary announcement on the aircraft’s speaker system.

“Ladies
and gentlemen, we have arrived at the British overseas territory of
Gibraltar and will be disembarking as soon as possible. And thank you
for flying Air Globemaster.”

Male or Female, an Air Force pilot has the ego and sense of humor of an Air Force pilot.

I
thanked the pilot and the flight crew for their utterly boring display
of professional competence. Believe me, in old school aerodynamic
aviation back on Earth in those days, a boring flight was a really,
really, really good flight. And they got the joke.

After
stroking the egos of the Air Force folks I met the head of British
Forces for Gibraltar at the forward door of the aircraft.

Yes, was a civilian, but I did return the salute, it would have been rude for me not to, I thought at the time.

Okay, I admit it, it was an old reflex.

I
will leave the argument over whether or not an executive order from
President March constituted a proper commission to run a military
operation to the professional historians.

So how did the British get involved in the rescue expedition?

It’s a long story.

Apparently
during her weekly chat with the Prime Minister, a fellow from the
Labour Party at the time, Her Majesty the Queen very clearly expressed
her distress about the French attack on the State of Israel. She
couldn’t directly issue a command to the current PM, but she did ask him
if something could be done about it.

The sitting PM said that he would look into it.

Unfortunately,
the line taken by Labour Party at the time was that former President
Null’s refusal to relinquish the office was legitimate due the claim of
having a majority of the votes cast in the election.

In order for
the Labour Party to do so they had to ignore the fact that many of
those votes, in places like Chicago and other strongholds of the other
party, were attributed to persons who were already dead or did not
otherwise exist.

And of course they had to completely ignore the
actual rules laid out in our actual Constitution and the actual outcome
of the actual vote of the actually existing Electoral College.

And
on top of this the now former President Null, now known as the Big
Zero, had openly stated his support for the destruction of the State of
Israel.

Again, I will leave the question of whether the Zero’s
position on this was due to his well documented tendency towards moral
nihilism -- or his other well documented tendency towards politically
felliating his Muslim supporters -- to the professional historians.

In the meantime the sitting Prime Minister of the United Kingdom definitely had a problem.

And because I was in the process of organizing the evacuation of Israel I caught the phone call.

“Tom,” I said to the PM, “the first thing you need to do is to withdraw your government’s recognition of the Zero and his crew.”

“That will be difficult.” The PM replied.

“But not impossible.” I said.

I thought for a moment.

Then I resumed the conversation.

“What
I would suggest is that you read to everyone in the House the section
of our Constitution that governs the rules for our presidential
elections, and particular you’ll need to explain how the Electoral
College works and why it was adopted. That should get everyone but the
hardcore Marxists to go along with the change in policy.”

“But,” replied the PM, “there will be those who will claim that your Electoral College is undemocratic.”

Never mind all of the dead and otherwise nonexistent voters in Chicago and the other urban cesspits ruled by the other party.

“Tom,
let me ask this question.” I said. “Does Her Majesty’s Government
want to deal with an American federal government that is subject to a
written supreme law? Or do you want to deal with an unrestrained mob
state which was empowered by false votes and subject only to the will of
the leader?”

There was silence on the phone line.

I broke the silence.

“The
last time you had to deal with that was called World War Two.” I
said. “And I can’t imagine that Her Majesty, or any other remaining
veteran of that conflict, would want to see that happen again.
Especially with nukes.”

“No.” Said the PM. “Of course not.”

And with that I was going to let the PM deal with his own internal political issues.

I moved on to the next subject.

“The
other problem is the question what you’re going to send on this
mission.” I said. “If I recall correctly, you’re down to one escort
carrier in commission, and you don’t even have a proper air group for
it.”

Of the three Invincible class carriers built for the Royal
Navy only the Illustrious was still in commission. The Ark Royal was in
storage awaiting disposal, and the lead ship of the class had already
been stripped of useful parts and sold for scrap.

On top of this
all of the Harrier jets built for their Navy and Air Force had been
retired and placed in storage due to cuts in the British defense budget.

To an outside observer like myself it would appear that the worst enemy of the British Armed Forces was the British politician.

I spoke again.

“Quite frankly, sir, I wouldn’t send the Illustrious out without at least a squadron of Harriers from our Marine Corps.”

“We would appreciate that, sir.” Said the Prime Minister.

That caught me by surprise.

“Just a second, sir.” I responded. “I need to make a note.”

On
a notepad I wrote a reminder to myself to talk about this to the Marine
Corps liaison officer in our temporary headquarters in Omaha.

[Days later on the USS Harry S. Truman (CVN75)]

A
master chief led me out across the flight deck to the Seahawk
helicopter. The Navy has strict rules that even very important people
like myself have to follow. And I had absolutely no desire to be
decapitated by a main rotor or generally shredded by a tail rotor.

Once
I was aboard and my headset was plugged into the intercom, the Seahawk
lifted off from the deck of the Truman and flew east towards the remains
of the State of Israel.

As soon as I thought it was safe I spoke to the pilot over the intercom.

“ Lieutenant?” I practically shouted over the noise of the main rotor. “ How far east can we go?”

“ Did you want to see Jerusalem, sir?” He replied.

“ Yes!” I shouted.

“ Me too!” He shouted back.

The
Seahawk flew over the beachhead set up by the Marines as one of the
evacuation points for the survivors. The pilot chose to fly low as he
approached the hills to avoid hostile MANPAD missile fire from the
damned Arabs.

And then we saw it.

In the final hours of
the Six-Day War in 1967 the Chief Rabbi of the IDF desperately searched
for some engineers and some explosives. He wanted to remove the
abomination, the Al Aqsa mosque, that the Arabs had built on the Temple
Mount.

Forty five years and a few months later, his wish was granted.

The abomination was gone. The Temple Mount was for all practical purposes cleared of all but the smallest pieces of stone.

Of the city of Jerusalem all that remained was ashes and rubble. There were no living things, plant or animal, to be seen.